


The First Meeting

by TheQueen



Series: To Learn To Understand [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Soulmates, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:37:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azog had not expected to meet his soulmate that night.<br/>Thorin is terrified he is going insane. Certainly there no creature stalking him from the forest. After all, why would there be anything following him? </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <sub>The first instalment of a series called <em>To Learn To Understand</em>.</sub><br/><sub>Thorin and Fili are kidnapped by Azog before Battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin, affected by the Stockholm Syndrom, falls in love with his kidnapper after some time while Fili is raised as Azog's son.</sub><br/><sub>This is their lives.</sub><br/><sub>PS: Looking for someone to write or at least co-write smut for this story. Comment if interested!</sub></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Azog

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE NOTES

In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.  
Maya Angelou

* * *

It was suppose to be easy.

Get in, get out. Few casualties, fewer survivors.

They had been following the Dwarven cavern for three nights now when Azog finally decided it was time to strike. The refugees, for it was obvious that these were the Dwarves of Erebor who had lost their mountain to the Dragon, had begun to weaken from the strain of marching through the hills that bordered the Misty Mountains but had yet to run low on supplies. The haul left from this raid would stock **Ev's*** stores for a good three months alone. This plus the new farms would allow his kingdom to prosper through the winter months instead of just surviving.

He had not been planning on finding his **könül***.

He had been making his way along the perimeter of the cavern's camp grounds to his designated position when he came across a young dwarves resting against one of the sturdier oaks of the forest. It was obvious the youth had fallen asleep while on watch for he was sitting in the most awkward position against the tree with his sword half drawn and his horn lying within reaching distance.

Azog had seen this dwarf before. He was always running about, helping others in the cavern. He appeared to hold a great deal of respect amongst the dwarves, placing him as either a high officer in the military, a skilled craftsman (though Azog doubted it for the lad appeared far too young to be more than an apprentice), or a member of royalty. And while he had taken the dwarf into consideration when preparing strategy, he had not really paid attention to any real attention him...how foolish was he to not have recognized his soul, his **könül**.

Squatting down to get a better look, he ran a clawed hand along his pale cheeks. He was so very fragile, his dwarf; so soft to touch. Azog wishes to take him far away from here to his mountain where he could keep his **könül** safe, forever.

This world, rife with danger and hate and cruelty of all kinds, was not worth his dwarf's presence.

And as he traced the soft pout of his lips, up to touch the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, Azog wondered what color his dwarf's eyes were and if they twinkled when he smiled. He hoped so. He would be beautiful, his dwarf. With his head thrown back in a roar, lips curved in a open smile, his eyes light with love and happiness. His laugh would be the most beautiful sound Azog would ever here. It would be loud, he was sure of it, with a slight ring like that of the Great Bells. It would ring through the air, clear and sharp and lovely. It would settle in his ears, down his throat, and around his heart where it would sit warm to starve off the colder nights.

He only hoped his dwarf would give him a chance to see his smile, hear his laugh.

Azog was no fool. He knew what he was and what he looked like to the other races of Middle Earth. He was a monster to them. They had not understood the Orc's position and they still did not. They did not realize that in the beginning, his ancestors had but little choice but to side with Sauron, their creator and master. They had not realized the joy the Orcen race had felt when his ancestors had finally been freed of their bounds. No, the other races refused to acknowledge their suffering. Instead, they thought Orcs were creatures with no souls, no culture, and no thoughts. They did not realize that Orcs only raided for they were refused land to till and grow. That without the raids, his people would starve in their exile. Perhaps, one day, when the sun smiled upon his great-great-grandchildren, the other races would realize the error of their ways and accept his people as one of them. But for now, they refused to listen. They refused to learn.

He could only pray that his dwarf would be different.

And then there was a noise: " **Sir**?"

Spinning, Azog unsheaths his sword and snarles whist crouching to protect his **könül**. For a moment there was silence as his dwarf murmured and shifted against the tree, but still he remained, blessedly, asleep.

Azog let out a low sigh of relief.

" **Fool** ," Azog hissed, " **I thought you a threat.** "

" **Apologies, sir** ," his second-in-command and good friend, Boldog, grunted, " **But your men grow restless in their waiting. When shall you give the signal?** "

" **We do not raid tonight** ," Azog whispered, turning his back to his companion to once again gaze at his **könül** , his dwarf. " **A complication has arisen**."

" **Is he the one? Your könül**?" Boldog asked, stepping forward as if to gain a better look and only stopped when Azog snarled possessively, posture tensing as if prepared to fight.

Once again, his dwarf murmurs in his sleep. His face scrunched up and for a brief moment Azog is overjoyed at the chance to look into his **könül's** eyes before remembering his position. For his dwarf to wake up with an Orc leaning over him...

So with great reverence, for he knew he had not yet gained permission to touch his **könül** in such an intimate way, he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss upon his dwarfs forehead.

"Rest my dwarf," he whispered in Common.

Shifting closer, his dwarf sighs against his chest. For a moment he appeared to say something but Azog could hear only one word, "...Dwalin..."

Silence.

And then in a great furry, Azog moved as if to punch and scream before remembering himself. Who had dared to touch his **könül**? To force on him such reverence? It was only his name that should pass his **könül** lips, only his face that his dwarf should think upon when at peace. For it was only _he_ that could and should provide for his dwarf in the way that he deserved.

Standing quickly to ensure he did not do anything he would later regret, he cast one last longing glance at his **könül** before turning to leave.

Boldog did not say a word, but there was no pity, but only understanding in his eyes, and Azog was grateful for his friend's silent support.

It was only when they had called back the troop and where setting up for camp that Boldog said anything, " **Worry not, qardaş*. Östa* has blessed you with the sight of your könül, Östa is not so cruel as to keep him from you now.** "

" **I will strip this _Dwalin_ from his mind** ," Azog snarled, his blood seething in his veins. Around him, his Orcs pauses to glance over at their leader but he pays them no mind. Let them know of what has come to pass and stay to remain witnesses. He places a fists upon his heart and yelled to the heavens, " **I will destroy this _Dwalin_. I will ride him of this Earth. I will scourer every crevice, every corner, every hole until his very line is wiped clean from the very soil. For it is only my love that my könül, my dwarf, shall every know of. Only my name that shall pass his lips.** "

His men, awed and moved by his pledge, roared and pounding their fists against their chests in agreement.

" **May you rip his head from his shoulders and mount it in the hall for all to spit upon,** " cried one of his Orcs.

" **May he quiver in fear and in pain as you show your könül the better person,** " called another.

" **And may your könül fall to his knees in awe on the battle field and pleasure in the bedroom,** " shouted a third, more brave and drunken of his Orcs.

Soon, Orc after Orc, soldier after soldier, came up to clasp their King on the arms and shoulder with blessings on their lips. To find your **könül** was rare for Orc's who where often too busy surviving to search. Such an occasion deserved celebration and Azog felt no guilt in breaking out the provisions and the alcohol.

Soon the party was in full swing and ever Orc in attendance was too busy attempting to drink the other into a stupor to care about their Dwarven neighbors. There was dancing and singing. Storytelling and jokes. Even Shagrat, the old veteran that he was, was wrestling playfully with the younger soldiers.

' **May the Böyük Bircə bless my love and my könül and show me a red sun on the 'morrow** ' Azog prayed in silence to the sky before knocking back a drink and jumping into the fray.

**A/N:**

**Notes about Azerdajin:** It is actually the language Azerbaijan. There is no personal reason why I choose for it to be the language of the Orcs. I have nothing against this language. It was just that some of its words that I was looking to use sounded "right" in Azerbaijan compared to other languages. I just do not have the skills or patients to create an actual Orc language.

 **Why did I give the Orcs a language:** Orcs, in the books and movies, are portrayed as mindless and uncivilized. They're monsters that hide under beds and in closets. Their only purpose is to play the part of the villain. I find this a fault in Tolkien's world. Nothing is that black and white. And perhaps it would be better to show this thought process in a more serious piece - we'll see over the summer - I figured it had a place in this story. And while, yes, Orcs do have their own languages, but their languages is derived from the Black Speech tying them directly to Sauron, something I do not wish to do. Another problem is that their languages differ so greatly between Clans that when speaking to one another they use Common or Black Speech. I want to show them as clever enough to have created their own language to unite the Orc Clans - there are 13 in the story, though there are more in the Lore - so that they may prosper in a united civilization.

Thorin is going to be entering this world that he sees as beastly to find that there is an intellect and a culture and a language that defines Orcs just as there is an intellect, a culture, and a language that defines any other race's culture. I hope the readers will be able to see this as well.

***Translations:**

**Ev** \- Home - The Orcish word for their kingdom in Moria

 **Könül** \- Soul, Heart, etc - for the context of this story think of it as the Orc's version of the dwarven "One"

 **Qardaş -** Brother - can be used for a blood brother, in this instant it is used to signify a deep friendship. Boldog and Azog are not blood related though they do hail from the same clan, as such the similar "og" ending to their names.

 **Östa -** God - This is not Azerbaijan. I made it up. It is the Orcen word for God, but it is NOT their god's name. You know how people refer to god as "Father" or "the Lord." Well **Östa** is the Orcen version of such titles. This will be important at a later date.

 **Böyük Bircə -** Formal/official name of the Orcen God - It roughly translates in English as the "Great One" or the "Magnificent One."

 **Note About Translations** : I am unsure whether or not to repeatedly define words used in previous chapters. These words are used because they will be used continuously throughout the story. Do you think you can remember them or should I repeat them?

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - Took forever to pick the language

2 - Boldog is going to be pretty important in the coming chapters.

3 - Thorin is next!

4 - _READ THESE NOTES! THEY ARE IMPORTANT. THEY EXPLAIN CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THE STORY I CANNOT HASH OUT IN FULL IN THE IMMEDIATE TEXT. I AM NOT TOLKIEN! I AM NOT THAT GREAT AT WORLD BUILDING AS HE IS._

5 - **Still looking for a writer who would be willing to co-write or at least edit the smut parts.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Langauge Key:  
> Plain = Common  
>  _Italicized_ = Khuzdul  
>  **Bold** = Azerdajin


	2. Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE NOTES!

"I cried for all of those things that should have just been for us..."  
― Kate Chisman ( _Creep_ )

* * *

Thorin likes to think he is no fool.

He had noticed it about two weeks ago when he had been watching his young nephew, Fili, for Dis. The poor lad had gotten himself into another spot of trouble with some of the elders thanks to his habit of playing rather harmless, in his opinion, pranks. As such, Dis had taken away the lad's toys, which Thorin felt was a bit harsh. There was no other child in the camp old enough or young enough to play with the four year old. Of course he was going to act out a little. Ferenir had been the same when he'd been growing.

And while he had felt eyes upon him before, he had ignored it thinking it was the hunger or the tiredness playing tricks on his mind. But then a rustle in the trees and the soft sound of footsteps in the underbrush was heard when Fili's ball had rolled too close to the edge of the clearing they had been playing in.

Fili hadn't noticed. His young mind associating the noise with a harmless forest creature, But Thorin was no innocent. Such soft thuds could only be heard from the footfalls of a creature as large and as heavy as a bear. And there were no bears in these woods.

But he kept his fears to himself. Certainly it would not happen again. Perhaps it had been a lone warg desperate for a meal. Or a rather large man curious about the camping dwarrows. It was a fleeting moment. A passing. To think something was following him. Preposterous!

And yet it kept occurring.

Shivers crawling up his spin from unseen eyes. Soft rustles in the forest following him as he took his daily walks. A touch on his face and a blur of a memory of a voice whispering sweet nothings into his years when he, embarrassingly, fell asleep during watch.

Soon he began to jump at every sound and double check every corner. His family quickly became concerned, asking him again and again if something was wrong. Only Dwalin kept his peace, though he could feel his _azyungel's_ * worried stare following him around the camp.

But what could he tell them? That he was being watched? Followed? They'd call him mad. And perhaps he was. Perhaps he was mad, madder than his grandfather with all his plans for Moria. Madder than his father, lost in grief. Yet, he was worse. Mad, driven by stress and failure until he saw things and shadows and voices on the wind. No. Best to keep quiet.

But as the days went on, the closer the eyes became and the longer the memories grew. It became increasing more frequent that he would wake to find the spot beside him still warm from the creature that kept him company at night.

He, sometimes, wondered what would happen if he only pretended to sleep. Who would he see sit beside him at night? Who would be whispering such kind words in his ear?

But at the same time the thought terrified Thorin. He did not wish to know what followed him in the forest. Least it by some horrid fiend thought of in only his worst nightmares who meant him great harm.

So he endured the eyes and the voice and found that over time, that which first frightened him now soothed him. The eyes were now a welcome reminder that he was adored. The memories tainted sweet with contentment. Oh yes, he still jumped and twitched, but less so. This appeared to appease his family who was glad to see he begin to relax again.

Only Dwalin continued to worry. But he was forever worrying. Less did Dwalin leave his side and instead spent his days guarding Thorin from whatever lay in the forests. And while Thorin complained and insisted otherwise, he was pleased by the new arrangements. He felt the presence of his visitor less so in the presence of his One.

And so Thorin would have allowed things to drag on as they were until the end of the late summer months that would signal the beginning of the camps journey to the pass near Gondor. Certainly the creature would not follow him through the Misty Mountains. But it appeared fate would have other plans.

For it had been about five weeks since the day Fili's ball had rolled to close to the edge of the clearing that Thorin woke too early. It was early dawn. The rays of the sun just skittering across the underbrush. And he could feel a warmth next to him. His creature was large, far larger then expected, and was holding him close against its chest. He could hear the gentle thump of its heartbeat and could feel the soothing nature of its fingers in his hair. So peaceful was Thorin that he could have continued to sleep had another not approached and spoken.

He could not make a great amount of what they said seeing as they spoke in a language he had never heard before. But he was quick to notice that every time the word **könül** was spoken, his creature's grip grew tighter, more possessive.

"Very well," his creature finally said in heavily accented Common, "I will come, Boldog, but there will be punishment."

"Understood, my Liege," this Boldog said, his voice heavy with annoyance. And Thorin wondered what they could have been speaking of.

Slowly, the King - for that was what his creature appeared to be - extracted himself from behind Thorin as if to keep him from waking. And it was only when he heard footsteps leading away from him that he opened his eyes to see if he could catch a glimpse of the creature who had kept him company during the night.

_Oh..._

Thorin blinked, refusing to believe at first, but the more he stared the more obvious it became, "I am being followed by an orc?" Thorin asked in disbelief, "I am being followed by an _orc_!"

**A/N:**

**Notes on Orcs Continued:** Recently I had an interesting conversation with a user, Jeun, who had her own ideas/headcanons about Orcs which actually increased/edited/rounded my own headcanon. Don't be afraid to speak to me, guys! Your input makes this story better. Remember, I'm making shit up on the fly. This has not been planned out in the slightest.

So anyway, I told Jeun that I though Orcs were very similar to Vikings and this is what I meant. Vikings are known for pillaging and raiding and rapping their way across Europe. And one of the major reasons they did this was because their homeland was not easy to farm. So cue the Orcs! They are in a similar position. They don't have access to farmable land. During the early days, like immediate post-death-of-Sauron, Orcs were continuously being run off their land until finally they found a foothold in some of the most uninhabitable places in Middle Earth like the ruins of Mordor and the Mines of Moria - they have carefully built their lives in such a way as to stop from igniting the rage of the Baldrog. And you can't really farm there. So instead they raid. They pillage. And, because they can and they're warriors, they rape.

In the story, Azog remarks that they raid plus some farms will allow them to get through the winter. This is because I believe, thanks to dwarven scripts, that the Orcs have stumbled upon sustainable, low input farming similar to what humanity is developing today (go check this out, it is a really big revolution currently going on in the agrobusiness and you should know about it). You'll see more on that later.

***Translations:**

_Azyungel -_ Treasure - used in this instance as a pet name for his One, Thorin means too call Dwalin his "greatest treasure," implying that he cannot live without him.

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - KHUZDUL! Or at least a word.

2 - I am making a character profile in my head for Boldog and he is just the sweetest thing

3 - Thorin is hard to write. I tried to make him more formal and his thoughts are meant to come off as very articulate. The irony being that when speaking he makes an effort to use as few words as possible. Especially when speaking Common. I don't think he enjoys speaking in Common.

4 - Azog is such a stalker.

5 - And Dwalin is such a sweetheart. Maybe I'll let him live.

6 - I am so glad so many of you enjoyed the Orcs! You'll learn more about my headcanon for them at a later date.

7 - Pay attention to the quotes.

**Questions for Readers:**

1 - Does anyone have any good sources for _khuzdul_? Not neo-khuzdul, just _khuzdul_?

2 - **No one has told me whether or not they want the Azerdajin or _Khuzdul_ words repeatedly defined. I'm thinking of making a separate "story" that would hold ALL the non-Common words used in this series that I would update regularly. Would you like that?**

 **Edit - Notes on the Word ORC:** I had the most fascinating conversation with my friends about when and why we capitalize God. And we decided that when referring to the "being" - in terms of religion's God - that out of respect, even if you don't believe, you capitalize God because it is then a proper noun. But when referring to God in the terms of the idea of god, the idea of an ultimate being, and not a specific being then it is okay to lower case God if you want to. 

So why am I telling you this?

Well, Azog refers to Orcs with an uppercase O. Thorin does not. Thorin sees, as he has been trained culturally, Orcs as orcs, lower case o, because he doesn't see them as beings. Orcs, to Thorin, don't deserve an upper case O because they are things. They are things that happen to be alive. They are things in the sense a dog or a cow is a thing. Certainly, Thorin respects the Ravens (upper case R) and the Wargs (upper case W) for their cunning, but Orcs are not intelligent enough to deserve that upper case O. And it isn't something he consciously decided to do. It is just...a habit. Just as white people, once upon a time, habitually refereed to African Americans as Niggers and Negros. It wasn't them being actively racist, it was just a societal habit. 

I just decided to do it and I wanted to point it out to you guys - or at least the ones that bother to read these long as notes, I mean wow, the notes are longer than the story - so you can pay attention to the upper casing/lower casing of certain words so you can start to notice the subtle changes in Thorin's POV when the time arrives.

**Author's Note:**

> Langauge Key:  
> Plain = Common  
>  _Italicized_ = Khuzdul  
>  **Bold** = Azerdajin


End file.
